


The Nutcracker

by names_are_boring



Series: Countdown to Christmas [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, I hate tags, John Watson - Freeform, M/M, Nutcracker, Sherlock - Freeform, Sweet Kisses, balletlock, i’m lazy, they love eachother, what the heck is the ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 05:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17094566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/names_are_boring/pseuds/names_are_boring
Summary: This is Day One of my countdown to Christmas fics. This is simply Sherlock doing ballet and John being in love. It’s fluffy and all that.





	The Nutcracker

Hints of peppermint trace the air. Mothers, fathers, siblings, and aunts, bundled in winter coats, take their seats. Cousins scan their tickets and search the rows for their matching numbers. Dresses of red and suits of black fill the open room. All is calm once the lights finally dim. 

“Where is he?” Mrs. Watson turns her head as she searches the room. Her gaze is piercing, purposeful. 

“Shh mum, it’s starting.” John flaps his hand towards his mother in an attempt to silence her. His mind goes over what’s to come. Mrs. Watson dramatically rolls her eyes, then sets them onto the darkened stage. 

The great, red curtains pull back slowly, and The Nutcracker begins. 

***

A single light shines down on the lonesome boy with the white tights. John leans forward without realizing it. The boys dark curls have been combed, but they still fall lazily around his face, causing a faint grin to trace Johns lips. The boy wears snow white tights that match his white and gold princes top. He pops his leg out towards the stilled crowd, his features appear emotionless. As soon as a variation of Nutcracker’s Prince begins to play, he loses himself to the music. 

The crowd is captivated by his movements, the swift pulls and kicks of his legs, the gentle gliding of his arms. It draws the people in. The care he takes with each step is absolutely stunning. John's mother holds her breath as she watches the boy twirl around the stage. 

When he is finished, a faint sheen of sweat glistens his forehead. From where they sit, John swears the boy is looking at him. Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds, then it’s over. After the lights dim, the boy scurries off. 

John turns towards his mother with a wide grin plastered across his face. They share a knowing glance. 

*** 

John’s unable to focus on the other dancers, his mind wanders off to the beauty that is the boys dark curls. He wants to run his fingers through them. He can’t draw his eyes away from the boys pale skin, the way it practically shines in this lighting. Thoughts of tainting that skin cross John’s mind more than once. 

He wishes he could climb onto the stage and pull the boy off, to kiss him multiple times, to smother him with his attention, yet when he thinks of the reality of those wishes, he changes his mind. Privacy would be best. 

***

The boy appears on the stage for three more songs, and graces the crowd with his movements each time. A piece of John leaves every time he exits the stage. 

***

When all is done, the lights are raised and all are on their feet as the dancers bow on the stage. John claps enthusiastically as his mother cheers. 

“Well?” Mrs. Watson looks to her son. Her warm eyes carry her lips smile. John feels his cheeks heat up as he feels his mother’s stare on him. 

“I’ll be back.” He smiles at her, then hurries off. 

Once outside the crowd of people, he finds his way down a hall. He’s been told the layout of the building twice already, but he’s still new to it. Down the left hallway, right turn by the red door, up the two steps… and there! People in costumes rush about the room laughing and joking to each other. 

John squints his eyes as he scans the room. It’s no use, he decides to take a few steps inside. Small hands snake their way around his stomach, catching him off guard. 

“John, you came!” Squeaks the small voice from behind him. John feels himself smiling. 

“I told you I would, Molly. You looked great out there! My mum loved it.” John turns around to give her a proper hug. 

“I was so nervous! I haven’t performed like that in over a year. I haven’t had any time to do it, with my dad being deployed, my mummy has needed more help.” Her gaze drifts as her tone shifts. John decides to avoid this topic and skips to a new one. 

“Where is he? I saw him up there, how come you didn’t tell me he’d get a whole bloody song to himself!” John lets his fake anger trail his voice. Molly’s eyes pop up to meet his. A mischievous grin plays at her features. 

“And ruin the surprise? No way, besides, he threatened to kidnap Mr Meowington if I snitched. Come on, he’s changing. I’ll bring you to him.” Molly smiles with a newfound confidence as she leads John to another room. This one is much smaller, with only a few others in it, there are curtains up in the corner. John decides those are probably changing rooms. 

“He’s just down there.” Molly points to the last black curtain. John hugs her, congratulates and thanks her, then turns to the curtains. He makes his way to the last one, then leans against the wall beside it. He doesn’t have long to wait. 

The curtain draws back almost at the same time that he leans against the wall. A hand reaches out, fists his shirt, then pulls him behind the curtain. Next thing John knows, he’s being kissed in a poorly lit, very tight, changing cubby. 

“Well hello to you too.” John smiles up, breathlessly, at his boyfriend who is notably shirtless. 

“John.” A question. A statement. A praise. A plea. Much more than just a name. 

“You were wonderful! I couldn't keep my eyes off of you, Sherlock. How come you didn’t tell me you were going to perform alone?” John crosses his arms against his chest and attempts to make his most displeased glare. He fails miserably. 

“I wanted to surprise you. It doesn’t matter anyway, I messed up. I slipped on my last resting position. You and everyone else probably saw it.” Sherlock’s sulk is complete with the pushing out of his bottom lip. He turns to grab a shirt from the bag on the floor, but John stops him by grabbing his wrists. 

“Are you kidding me? You, Sherlock Holmes, are a ridiculous man. I certainly didn’t see it, and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. You were amazing. Besides, everyone messes up, no one is perfect.” John offers a smile and lets his wrist go. 

“That’s wrong, you are.” Sherlock states. 

“I am what?” John doesn’t hesitate to question. 

“Perfect.” Sherlock supplies the answer. 

John pauses for a brief moment, then smiles one of those knee jerking smiles that makes Sherlock’s breath catch in his throat. 

“You’re just saying that so I’ll kiss you again.” He didn’t take much time to ponder that. Sherlock’s cheeks definitely don’t tint a shade of pink. 

“Did it work?” He asks and barely leans forward. John’s smirk widens as their lips meet once more. Proud hands come to rest on Johns sides. John lets his own hands find their way around the naked torso, until they stop at the curve of Sherlock’s back. 

“You really should get dressed now, wouldn’t want anything indecent to happen while anyone could walk in.” John teases as he pulls away. 

“I was trying to grab my shirt, but you stopped me from doing that.” Sherlock continued getting dressed, and John steps out. 

“Awe, young love..” The tease catches his attention. 

“Leave it, Irene.” John rolls his eyes. Irene passes by him with a wink. As the seconds tick by, John goes over the nights performance and quickly makes up his mind. 

He’s got to get his gorgeous boyfriend home, and now. 

***


End file.
